Crystal Eyes
by Seribaba
Summary: 300 years ago, a dark deal was made. Now, Carlisle must face the terrible consequences of his father's great sin...the price of which may cost him his very soul. *Twilight/Constantine crossover*
1. Prelude

**_Author's Note: _This chapter has been completely rewritten from its original, thanks to an error pointed out by Fang Cullen. Any confusion that might result from reading below is intentional. Further explanation will come in later chapters.**

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_London, England. 1651._

The storm was finally starting to lighten up. It was now possible to hear the rapid clicking beats of the horse's hooves against the cobblestones. The old carriage groaned and shook as it rolled over the uneven street, the occupants enduring an unusually jostling ride.

"Easy!" shouted the man as he quickly reached out a hand to brace himself.

"I apologize, sir," the carriage driver replied. "Easy, Ben. Easy, boy."

The cadence of the horse's gait slowed slightly. Both of the carriage's occupants gave soft sighs of relief. A moment later, the other, a young boy, chuckled slightly.

"I believe our cabby wishes to reach our destination with us shaken to pieces."

"Not if he intends to receive his full fare."

It was not clear whether the carriage driver heard the man, for he did not comment. However, the ride had become considerably more comfortable. His passengers were finally allowing themselves to relax again.

It had been a long evening for the father and his young son. A visit to a mutual friend of the father on the outskirts of the city had become more complicated than expected with the storm. The main road had been washed out, forcing the carriage driver to take them on a long-about route around the city. That alone had added over two hours to the day. Weariness was making the man more irritable than normal, and he had not appreciated the carriage-driver's recklessness. His son, however, seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the ride.

The soft thrumming of the rain upon the carriage roof was softening even more now. The horse's gait was now a slow, steady trot. The man looked out the carriage's back window, relieved to see the familiarity of the buildings along the street. They were not far from home.

Very suddenly, the carriage lurched to a stop. The man and his son were rocked forward, but they remained in their seats. He was now thoroughly aggravated with their hired carriage-driver.

"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded, but his words were drowned by the driver's sudden shouts.

"Easy boy! Easy!!"

The carriage was rocking back and forth, the sudden rapid clacking of hooves against cobblestones informing both the occupants that the horse was starting to panic.

The driver leapt from his seat and grabbed his horse's thrashing head. The animal's eyes were bulging with fright, the harness of the carriage the only thing keeping it from bolting. Quickly, while the driver had the horse restrained, the man and his son climbed out. Immediately the boy ran to the horse and grabbed the other side of its bridle, helping the driver restrain and calm the beast. After a minute, it stopped thrashing, but its breath still blew from its flared nostrils in great snorts.

Once he was sure the horse was safely calming down, the boy turned and tried to see what it was that had spooked it. The familiar street was very dark, lit only by the dim flickering firelight from the houses. A little ways down, the street curved to the right, and a streetlight upon the curve illuminated the steps of the church where his father preached. There were no lights coming from the windows. Everything was as he and his father had left it…completely quiet and deserted.

"I would expect a carriage horse to be more behaved," the man said sharply to the bewildered driver.

"I do not know what happened, sir," the carriage-driver replied. "Ben has never been like this before."

The father gave the driver another scowl before handing over his pay.

"Be certain that you will not be hearing from me again," he said sharply. "Good night, sir."

"Good night, Father Cullen."

Young Carlisle watched as the carriage-driver climbed back into his seat and clicked to his horse, turning the carriage around. They disappeared into the night at a brisk pace. His father watched them depart until the sounds of the horse had fully faded, then turned back around.

"In the house, boy," he said quietly. "It has been a long day today, and it will be an even longer day tomorrow."

Obediently, Carlisle turned and started off down the street, his father following. He glanced back only once as he neared the front door of their small house a few doors down from the church.

"What was that about, Father?" he asked curiously.

"A poor horse and a driver who has no idea what he is doing," Father Cullen replied gruffly. He passed by his son and pushed open the door to the house. "Remember his face, son. We will not be employing is services again."

Carlisle nodded and followed his father into the dark house. Almost immediately, a low "whuff" echoed, and an old hound slowly got up from the patch of floor by the stairs where he had been sleeping. Carlisle reached out for the dog and scratched him behind his ears.

"Hello, Travers," he said.

His father, through the light of a freshly lit lamp, smiled slightly.

"To bed, son," he said. "And remember your prayers. Tomorrow we…"

But his father could not get another word out. At that moment, Travers abruptly started barking. Not his normal deep slow barks, but loud terrible snarls. The dog's eyes were wide, and spittle flew out from his wide open mouth with each loud bellow. His aged yellow teeth were bared. Carlisle tried to grab hold of his collar, but at the last moment the dog bolted forward and slammed himself against the front door. He yelped loudly at the impact, faded back a few steps, and lunged for the door again, gouging long scratches into the wooden surface with his dull claws.

"Travers!" Carlisle shouted.

The dog lunged for the door again, his bark breaking into another shrill yelp halfway through. He staggered backwards a few steps, leaving bloody pawprints on the floor. The dog made it halfway to where Carlisle and his father still stood. And then, the bony body gave a gruesome shudder, and the dog collapsed onto his side.

Both Carlisle and his father moved at that moment. Carlisle rushed to the dog's side, his hands trembling as he realized the old, faithful hound was dead. His father opened the front door slightly and glanced outside. In the dim light of the single lamp, he saw his father's face turn ghostly white.

"Father, what is it?" he asked, trembling.

"Stay inside, Carlisle," his father replied grimly. "Do not move."

"Father!"

But before Carlisle could protest further, his father had disappeared outside, slamming the door behind him.

For several minutes, Carlisle did not move. He remained crouched over the body of the dog, staring at the closed door. Everything was absolutely silent. There was no sound of a struggle. Finally, the boy convinced himself that his father had not gotten attacked, and slowly rose to his feet. Too fearful of his father's wrath to open the front door, he ran to the window in the sitting room, pushing the curtain aside just enough to see out onto the street.

The first thing he saw was a horse. It was slightly bony, and a smoky gray in color, but there was nothing about it that looked overly unusual. Save for the fact that it stood completely still; neither hoof nor tail twitched.

And then Carlisle spotted what he could only assume was the horse's rider. It had the appearance of a man, but the face was shrouded in darkness that defied what light there was out on the street. His father stood in front of it, and they seemingly were deep in conversation. His posture was betraying unease, but he was standing firm nevertheless. At the angle they were standing, Carlisle could not see much of anything else.

The two talked for only a few minutes more. Then, the rider shifted, moving from his father to the horse in the time it took the boy to blink. Another second more and the figure was mounted. Only then did the horse move, turning out onto the empty street.

And then, the rider turned and looked straight at him. Carlisle jumped in shock. He still could not see the face.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, the figure raised a hand and tipped its hat.

The horse and its rider were gone before he could react. The beast had broken into a fast canter and disappeared around the curve of the street. He stared into the darkness where they had disappeared, unable to move. He did not react even when his father reentered the house and approached him.

"Up to bed," he demanded, making Carlisle jump and turn.

"Who was that, Father?" Carlisle asked, horrified to see that his father's face was pale and drawn. The anger in his demand did not reach his eyes.

"Never mind, Carlisle," he replied tersely. "Just one of my flock, come for advice."

"But…"

"To bed! Now!"

Carlisle had no choice but to obey. Fear still pounding in his heart, he retreated up to his bedroom. He looked back only to see his father sink into a chair and drop his head into his hands.

That night, the young boy's dreams were filled with dark figures riding upon skeletal horses.

But inexplicably, when he awoke with the dawn the next day, Carlisle had no memory of the shadowy figure from the previous night.


	2. Mysteries and Meetings

**_Author's Note_:** **Once again, I would like to thank Fang Cullen for pointing out the error in the old prelude to this story, which has been fully rewritten. **

**This story is a crossover, mainly between Twilight and the _movie_ Constantine (meaning, it will have nothing to do with the comic books). The mythos of a third movie (meaning, only the concept, no characters) will also appear, though I will not specify it at the moment. Let's see if y'all can guess that one. **

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Forks, Washington. Present day.

There was a palpable sense of urgency in the ER that night. It was normally a facility that was lucky to see anything more than the bumps and scrapes of small accidents and the occasional case of the flu. However, tonight, the symptoms of the strangely quiet young patient in exam room one was making the staff nervous and concerned. It had been a long time since anyone, let alone an infant, had come into the ER so seriously ill.

There was only one place that maintained an atmosphere of calm. The small office was tastefully decorated, and the desk stood in stark contrast to its owner's colleagues by being miraculously uncluttered. The doctor in question was focused on his computer screen, the brow of his handsome face furrowed slightly. He could plainly hear the soft cries of the infant through his open office door, weak though they were. His attention on the screen was for his young patient's benefit.

It was not often that Dr. Carlisle Cullen could admit it, but the infant's case was completely baffling him. A routine check-up with the pediatrician the day before had shown the boy to be perfectly healthy. Now, he was almost limp in his frantic mother's arms, his cries weak and strained. Blood panels had alluded to some kind of infection, but it would take a few days for the labs to identify the exact cause. And Carlisle knew the boy could not wait that long.

The mystery ran even deeper. How the boy had become ill was just as perplexing a question as what was causing it. The boy's parents were firm believers in all-natural foods and a healthy lifestyle. The health of the rest of the family was testament to that. The mother, father, and their four-year-old son all seemed normal. And none of them had been recently ill, nor had they been anywhere that might explain how the infant had come in contact with whatever it was that was making him so critically ill.

Carlisle was focused on his research, trying to match the child's symptoms with a probable cause. However, it did not prevent him from noticing the soft rumbling noise out in the hallway. He glanced around to see one of the hospital's old housekeepers stop outside his office door, pushing alone an old cleaning supply cart.

"Good evening, Dr. Cullen," the old woman said, giving him a warm smile. She was missing a fair number of teeth. "Just come to collect the trash."

"Good evening, Marie," Carlisle replied with a nod, gesturing to show her that she was welcome to enter.

The old woman smiled again as she stepped forward. However, she had only just begun gathering the bag in the bin at the end of the desk when his office phone rang. Carlisle, who had turned fully back to his computer screen, reached out and answered it automatically.

"Dr. Cullen," he said into the receiver, most of his attention still on his research.

"Good evening, Dr. Cullen," said a pleasant male voice. "This is Dr. Jones from the Washington State Hospital Association. How are you this evening?"

"Dealing with an unusual case tonight, but otherwise I've been alright," he replied.

"I wish you luck with your case, Dr. Cullen. But I am calling tonight about the application you sent to our board of directors."

For the first time, Dr. Cullen focused his complete attention on the call. Marie, who was fetching another trash bag from her cleaning cart, paused and gazed at him curiously.

"Of course," Carlisle said, nodding to himself. He could already guess what Dr. Jones was going to tell him. There was only one reason why someone from the board would contact him so late in the evening.

"I am pleased to inform you that the board has chosen your proposal to be presented at the national conference," Dr. Jones replied. "Your theories on the effectiveness of lactate levels on diagnosing sepsis are quite fascinating."

"Thank you, Dr. Jones," Carlisle replied, his face relaxing into a genuine smile for the first time in hours. "I am honored."

"I will call you tomorrow with more details. Good night, Dr. Cullen."

Carlisle hung up the phone and sat back in his chair, contemplating the call. He had submitted the proposal to the board of directors over three months ago. And if his memory served him—which it almost always did—the conference was only two weeks away. So typical of the board of directors to make decisions at the last minute.

"Congratulations, Dr. Cullen."

Carlisle looked around. Marie was still standing at the doorway, gazing at him curiously. He returned the look, and she gave him a half-toothless smile.

"The expression on your face, sir. Something good must have happened."

"Yes," Carlisle replied with a chuckle. "I have been chosen to do a presentation at the national conference this year."

"Very good!" Marie replied. "I am sure you will be wonderful."

"It is a fine opportunity," Carlisle agreed, turning back to his computer screen once more. "But for now, I must decide what to do with my little patient."

"Ah, yes." The old woman gave a solemn nod. "The poor little dear."

Marie turned and walked out into the hallway, replacing her supplies back on the cart. But as she shifted a spray bottle aside, she knocked her hand against a small cardboard box. It fell with a dull thump to the floor, the top splitting open slightly and spilling out several small amber-colored packets. Carlisle stood and approached, helping the old housekeeper to gather up the packets.

"Honey?" he asked, looking at one.

"Yes," Marie replied. "Food services wanted me to bring this box up from the kitchen. They like to keep some by the guest refrigerator, just in case anyone wanted something a little more natural to sweeten their tea or coffee. And you know what they say…" She accepted the packets back from Carlisle and returned them to the box. "Nothing like a spoonful of honey to raise a gloomy spirit."

Marie gave him one more smile before replacing the box on the cart and heading off. The soft rumbling noise echoed for a few moments even after she turned the corner and vanished from sight.

Carlisle was about to return to his desk and his research, but at the last moment he noticed a stray packet of honey by his trash bin. He picked it up and contemplated it for a moment, thinking about what Marie had said. Yes, honey was a natural alternative to sugar and other sweeteners.

A natural alternative…

A blazing realization dawned on him. In a split second he was back on his computer, his fingers blurred as they flew across the keyboard, checking on his newest theory. And when the results finally came up, he gave a sigh. Everything fit.

Carlisle left his office and jogged down the hallway, looking for the nurse assigned to the young child. He was quick to find her standing at the front desk, flipping through the child's record.

"Ask the parents if they use honey in any of their foods."

* * *

_Los Angeles, California. Same time._

A storm was raging tonight. Lighting flashed and thunder roared through a sky choked by pouring rain. Those few souls still wandering the city streets did so with their heads bowed, umbrellas and handfuls of newspaper barely shielding the onslaught. Rivers flowed down either side of the near empty streets, rushing into the drains alongside the refuse and debris of human life being washed into the oblivion of the sewers by the storm.

Water splashed in a miniature wave up onto the sidewalk as a nondescript black car appeared from the deluge and pulled up next to the curb. For a few moments, the engine continued to rumble, echoed high overhead by an insistent roll of thunder. Then, the engine went silent, the headlights fading into the darkness. A second later, a dark figure stepped out, head bowed low as he jogged around the front of the car and into the relatively protected eave of a nearby doorway. He stood there for a moment, adjusting the collar of his long coat and shaking excess water from his unkempt black hair. Then, he pushed the door open and disappeared inside.

The place quickly revealed itself to be a bar of sorts. The entryway was lavishly decorated and cluttered with countless items. Everything was bathed in an ethereal red light. And in the main room beyond, music blared from hidden speakers as bodies swayed to the music.

The man descended the front stairs to where a burly bouncer stood on the other side of a red velvet rope. Normally, the man presented a nearly impossible test to new arrivals to determine if they were allowed to enter. But after giving the figure a short glance, he quickly unhooked the rope and stepped aside. The man passed by without hesitation.

The bar was very crowded tonight, but the man's way was cleared almost too easily. Whenever one of the patrons saw him, they quickly moved aside, their eyes glittering in the eerie light as they watched him. Some had eyes that reflected the red, while others shone green or gold. The strange sight did not seem to distract the man at all. He headed purposefully towards a door at the far end of the room. It opened as he approached, the music and voices from the outside deadening as he stepped through and the door swung shut.

This room was an office, but its sense of decoration was no different from the rest of the establishment. It was, in some ways, even more cluttered. Every inch of shelf space and table surface held items of endless descriptions. A man sat behind an ordinate wooden desk in the middle of the room, fingering a long cigarette almost curiously. His expression, unlike the ones on the bar's patrons, was calm.

"Good evening, John," he said, his voice deep and pleasant.

The man smiled slightly as he sat down in a chair in front of the desk. For a moment, the two eyed one another in silence. Then, the other set the cigarette down in an ordinate crystal ashtray.

"Still on the bandwagon, I see," he continued. "How is that working for you?"

"I'm getting by," the first man spoke at last. "Some days are harder than others." He cleared his throat, an eyebrow raised. "Not that I'm not pleased to see you, Midnite, but this is the first time you've ever asked me to come here. Isn't it usually the other way around?"

Midnite smiled, his gold teeth glinting in the light of his office.

"Overheard an interesting bit of information, and figured you ought to know," he replied smoothly. "Just a little gossip."

John Constantine sat back in the chair a little more, waiting for the other to continue. He had begun visiting the house of the notable Papa Midnite more often as of late, though this was the first time he had been specifically asked to come. Midnite still held true to the oath of neutrality he had sworn so long ago.

"He's chosen a new rider, John."

That got his attention. Constantine sat up and stared at the other, unable to hide surprise from his features.

"A new rider?" he repeated. He didn't bother to hide the disbelief any more than he had the surprise. "You can't be serious."

"I am very serious," Midnite replied with a shrug. He gestured towards the door. "It's been the hot topic for a few days now. And you can't say you haven't sensed something a bit stronger running around this plane any more than I can."

Constantine rolled his eyes, his gaze shifting away from Midnite to focus on one of the crowded shelves. However, his attention was still on the man behind the desk.

"I thought Lu had given up on riders," he said after a moment. "Didn't the last two betray him?"

"They may serve him, but riders are still technically human."

"Lost souls with free will." Constantine stood, straightening his jacket and reaching into an inner pocket. "We can only hope this one ends up being as big a pain in his ass as the others."

He headed towards the door, popping into his mouth the piece of nicotine gum he had pulled from his pocket. But he had only just reached it when Midnite cleared his throat.

"Keep an eye out, Constantine," he said. "The rider is not a part of the balance. With his vendetta against you, I wouldn't put it past him…"

"Thanks for the tip, Midnite," Constantine interrupted with a careless half-grin. "But I'm not worried. If the rider gets in my way, I'll deport him just like everyone else."

"You have sworn to punish those who break the rules of the balance. How can you justify destroying something not a part of that?"

This time, Constantine managed a full smile as he turned back to the other.

"You know me, Midnite. If they piss me off, I'll find a reason."


	3. Conversations

**I apologize for the long delay in the posting of this chapter. It took me a while to decide where this tale was going to go. After considering it, I have decided not to set this story post _Breaking Dawn_. Now, it takes place in the summer months between _Twilight_ and _New Moon_. There will be slight AU moments as a result, but they will be minimal.**

**As stated in the previous chapter, the mythos of a third movie will very quickly become important to this story. This is the last chapter I will try to not outright reveal it. Just to see if anyone can guess. Full revelation to come in the next chapter.**

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_Los Angeles, California. The next day._

Morning over the city of angels did not bring with it any fairer weather. A bit quieter—the thunder could now barely be heard over the sounds of traffic—but the sky was still determinedly trying to drown everything in sight. However, the night's deluge had given most of the citizens fair warning, and there was hardly a face in the morning crowds not hidden under rain-coats or tucked underneath umbrellas.

The parking lot of the city's municipal public library was more crowded than usual. The black car that turned in was forced to park in one of the furthest spots from the main doors. Today, however, Constantine had come prepared. As the driver's side door swung open, a black umbrella poked out and opened. He stepped out, pausing only long enough to secure his grip on a small dark blue plastic bag before pushing the door shut with the heel of his foot.

Nobody gave him a second glance as he crossed the parking lot and stepped through the main doors. It was warm and musty-smelling inside, the normal quiet broken by the squeaking cries of too many little kids running around. Constantine had to side-step one as he made his way towards one of the two ancient elevators at the far end of the building.

He was in luck. The elevator to his left immediately slid open when he pressed the arrow down button. And the door slid shut behind him before anyone could follow him in. He pressed the arrow to the basement level, leaning against the wall as the old mechanism groaned to life, and the elevator began to descend. As he waited, he shifted the bag in his grip again. The weight of it had been making one of his fingers fall asleep.

The elevator came to a grinding halt at the basement level. Constantine rolled his eyes and cleared his throat.

"It's me," he called to the empty elevator in front of him.

The elevator started moving again. Constantine grinned privately.

It did not take near as long for the elevator to sink down to the lower level no normal patron of the library knew about. He stepped forward as the door slid open to reveal a short carpeted corridor lined with plain wooden doors. The far end of the corridor opened onto a wide cavernous room and a forest of book and parchment-laden bookshelves. However, the only illumination came from an old lamp on a plain wooden desk just beyond the corridor. An empty dusty wooden chair sat in front of it, while a woman sat behind it, her arms folded over her plump belly. A pair of spectacles perched on the tip of her long nose. She smiled warmly as Constantine approached.

"You have not been here to see me in a very long time, John," she said in a deep voice. "What brings you to my library?"

"I brought you a gift, Hunter," Constantine replied, setting the plastic bag on the desk. "In return for a few moments of your time."

The woman's smile widened as she leaned forward to grab the bag. Constantine settled himself on the empty chair while she opened it.

"You like to spoil me, John," the woman said pleasantly as she revealed the bottle of good scotch. "This is a welcome surprise."

Constantine grinned privately. For being a surprise, Hunter was quick to set two small clear plastic glasses and an ancient looking tin of cookies on the desk before her. She filled both glasses and passed one to him. He picked it up and examined the silly designs on the side.

"Sunny LA?" he read aloud. "I never knew you were a community girl."

"Just because I spend most of my time down here does not mean I do not appreciate the world outside," Hunter replied, sipping from her glass. "I would be quite upset if anything happened to this city."

"Because whatever happens to LA happens to this library," Constantine added.

Hunter smirked and took another sip of scotch.

"So what brings you to my library today?" she asked companionably. "What topic do you wish me to peruse my library on? I am at your service."

Constantine privately thanked his relatively good looks and ability to be charming. He was one of a scant few who could get Hunter to willingly research topics for him. Most of the time, visitors were on their own. And there were more manuscripts in the forest of shelves beyond than in the rest of California, arranged in no semblance of identifiable order.

"I had an interesting conversation with Papa Midnite last night," Constantine began. "He said that Lu has chosen a new Rider, and that he might try to send him after me. Figured I better brush up on the subject."

Hunter cast him a long, thoughtful look.

"The Rider," she said quietly. "Interesting. You bring up very old history, John."

With some effort, Hunter rose from her chair and started towards the forest of bookshelves. As she slowly headed off into the darkness, Constantine saw her flex her shoulders. Slowly, a pair of wings materialized from her back, dark-speckled and wide. The rim feathers were slightly frayed, betraying her age to his expert eyes. She stretched the left to its fullest extent, easily a ten-foot reach. After a moment, she extended the other and fanned them slightly.

"You need to preen a little bit more," he called after her.

A soft chuckle echoed as Hunter vanished from view.

"It's a good thing you're cute, John," came her reply.

Constantine settled back in his chair, taking a sip of his scotch and glancing around at the otherwise emptiness of the room. There was nothing on the blank walls, and no other light except from the lamp. The sounds of life in the library above did not filter down. Everything was absolutely silent.

Hunter was gone for several minutes, giving him plenty of time to polish off the scotch and contemplate other matters. He normally despised seeking help from any half-breed, but Hunter was one exception in a web of prejudice he held, and which had grown even stronger since the fiasco with Gabriel. Being the caretaker of the library, she was very well known in the circles he walked in. It was work she did as an act of penance, for she had somehow managed to disgrace herself before God centuries ago. Constantine didn't know the full story, but he knew the fact that she still had her wings was a miracle.

Hunter reappeared very suddenly, at the same moment he had decided to open the cookie tin to see what was inside. Appearances were deceiving in this case. The ginger crisps looked completely fresh. She had a book the size of a folded-up newspaper in her hands, which she set carefully on the desk before resuming her seat. It was not very thick, but the paper was yellowed and Bible-thin.

"I have not looked at this book in many years," she said quietly. "The Rider is not a part of the balance."

"Yeah, Midnite mentioned that," Constantine commented dryly. "A lost soul, still possessing of free will, that rides around doing Lu's bidding."

"The Rider is charged with only one task, John," Hunter replied. "And free will…well, that's the whole point of everything, isn't it? The greatest ally, and the worst enemy, of both sides."

Constantine arched an eyebrow. Hunter studied him.

"What do you know about the Devil's contracts?" she asked.

"What don't I know?" he replied gruffly. "I lose my faith in humanity every time I hear one of those damned things has been signed." He rolled his eyes. "Selling your soul to Satan for riches, prestige, and whatever other bullshit a person could want."

"They are what we try to prevent," Hunter said, nodding in solemn agreement as she motioned to herself. "But the further a soul sinks into Lucifer's darkness, the harder it is to bring them back. And once they sign…they are damned. They forever belong to Satan, to do with whatever his wretched black heart desires. There is no redemption from it."

"Why?" John asked, for the first time distracted from his original purpose. "Why won't God save those who've signed their souls to the Devil? He has the power."

"Thou shalt not steal, John," she replied gently. "God expects all to follow the laws He has set forth, including Himself. He will never take what no longer belongs to Him." She paused, a finger slowly trailing down the length of the book's leathery spine. "What has been written will not be changed. Those who suffer in Hell will not be saved until the end days. Only those that manage to escape will be granted a second chance. You were brought back, and you used your second chance to do what no other in history has yet done."

Hunter abruptly smiled.

"You were forgiven your sins. You have earned your place in Heaven, as long as you do not stray from the path you are on now."

John did not respond. After a long moment, Hunter slowly opened the book and flipped through a few pages.

"The rules of the balance state that neither demon nor angel can directly interfere with the lives of mortals. We can only whisper into their ears, calling to their souls. But once a soul has been bound in a Devil's contract, they can never hear the angels' whisper again. A guaranteed point to Satan's score, if you will.

But free will always exists, up until the moment of death. A damned soul can choose to try to run and hide, to avoid fulfilling their end of the deal. And the rules say demons cannot take them from our plane while they are alive. When a soul tries to run, when a contract stands unfulfilled, that is when Lucifer unleashes his Rider."

Hunter settled on a page, adjusting her spectacles as she focused on the writing. From his angle, Constantine could just make out the miniscule printing. The book was written in archaic Latin.

"He comes with the fiery winds of Hell upon his heels. The strides of his steed are as thunder upon the earth, scorching the land as black as coal. Fire is his shield, death his spear, the Devil's wrath the fuel that fans the flames…."

"I get the picture," Constantine said, raising a hand to stop her narrative. "A big flaming pain in the ass."

"And yet, still human." Hunter slowly closed the book and pushed it across the table towards him. "This volume will give you a general history of the Rider, and a review of the more interesting contracts they have been sent to settle in the past. I hope you've brushed up on your Latin recently."

"I'll manage." Constantine rested a hand on the book. "Thanks, Hunter. You've cleared some…"

He stopped, his voice trailing away into the silence. Only, the silence was no longer absolute. The deep, low groan of the old elevator was echoing dully through the cavernous room. He exchanged a glance with Hunter, who appeared bewildered.

"Expecting anyone else today?" he asked.

Hunter did not reply. Her eyes were starting to glow gold in the dim light. Instantly, John was more alert. He knew from many years experience that half-breed angels did not betray the lights of their eyes unless another half-breed…or something else…was approaching.

"This…is unexpected," she said softly after a full minute of nothing but the groan of the elevator. "The Rider is here. And he is requesting entrance." She turned her unnatural eyes to him. "What do I tell him?"

Constantine stood and faced the short corridor and the dull metal door. For a short moment, he wondered how the Rider knew he was here. But he banished the thought almost at once. It wasn't as though he made any effort to keep his movements a secret—what was the point? He had no reason to fear the Rider. There was nothing Lucifer had at his command that he feared.

"Let him in," he said. "I've got nothing better to do."

Hunter gave him a contemplative look, then waved a hand slightly.

"So be it."

Constantine turned fully to face the elevator door as the silence settled once more. He heard Hunter shift her position behind him, and the soft scrape of leather against wood as she removed the book from her desk. But he ignored her. He waited expectantly, pleased to be getting his first good look so soon.

The elevator doors slid open.

* * *

_Forks, Washington. Same time._

"All hail the conquering hero!"

Carlisle smiled as Alice's cheery voice echoed from inside the house. The sky outside was only just beginning to fill with pale morning light, which normally meant the house was still fairly quiet. Alice seemed to be of a mind to change the routine today.

Despite Alice's clear good mood, there was only one person waiting for him when he stepped through the door. His beautiful Esme met him with a dazzling smile and a gentle embrace. He set his bag down and put his arms around her, staring into her darkened eyes.

"I think you need to go hunting today," he said softly.

"I was just waiting for you, my love," Esme replied.

He didn't have a chance to say anything more, for at that moment Alice came dancing into the room. Carlisle smiled and reached out for her hands as she approached, guiding her final pirouette.

"Congratulations, Carlisle," she said sweetly. "The baby will be alright."

"Botulism," came Emmett's voice from upstairs. "How did you think of that one?"

"Just a stroke of inspiration," Carlisle replied. "The confirmation tests should be back later on today."

"And they'll be positive," Alice added.

"But at least the weather held off long enough for the Seattle Children's Hospital to send their helicopter for him," Esme said. "Are you still worried?"

"Dr. Aggers is a talented pediatrician. The boy will be well taken care of," he replied reassuringly. "And he promised to keep me updated…not that I really need that."

He smiled warmly at Alice, who beamed back. By then, Emmett, Jasper, and Rosalie had come down the stairs, expectant looks on their faces. He glanced at them before turning back to Esme.

"Alice saw the phone call," Esme explained. "You are invited to a conference in Los Angeles?"

"Yes," Carlisle replied, understanding. He turned to Alice once more. "Do you see weather being a problem?"

"It will be an unusually cloudy month," Alice said promptly. "There will be one afternoon when you will have to excuse yourself, but for the most part it will cooperate."

Carlisle wrapped an arm around Esme's waist. It was plainly obvious what his family was waiting for.

"Is Edward with Bella?" he asked, grinning as Rosalie rolled her eyes.

"Isn't he always?" Emmett answered.

"He'll be back shortly," Alice said.

More expectant looks. Carlisle laughed aloud, hearing Esme echo him.

"You might as well give in, my love," she said. "Are we allowed to come with you?"

"We'll be there for your presentation," Rosalie added brightly.

"Yeah," Emmett echoed. "We can't wait to hear all about…" He suddenly paused, his brow furrowing. "Lactate levels…and sepsis…"

Carlisle laughed again. He knew full well by the look on Emmett's face that he had just realized how uninteresting the topic was. Emmett had never had much interest in studying medicine and science.

"I think a family vacation sounds wonderful," he said. "Especially if the weather is going to cooperate."

"Well, it won't be too sunny," Alice said, now frowning slightly. "It'll rain a lot, though."

"Darn, and I really wanted to work on my tan," Rosalie said smoothly.

The tone of her voice made everyone burst out laughing. The light of new shopping opportunities was glowing bright in Alice's eyes. She paused only long enough to give him a hug and a quick kiss before taking Jasper by the hand and heading back upstairs, chattering happily. Rosalie and Emmett followed. Now alone again, Carlisle turned fully to Esme.

"Let's go," he said, one finger tracing the curve of her jaw tenderly.

Esme smiled again, leaning upward to steal a soft kiss. Then, she giggled girlishly.

"Race you."

She was gone in a flutter of cloth and a soft breeze out the front door before Carlisle could blink. He laughed aloud, pausing only long enough to pull off his jacket and hospital badge and drape them over the stair rail before taking off in pursuit.


	4. Encounters and Invitations

**_Author's Note: _I would like to dedicate this chapter to Nkundra. Thanks for the inspiration!**

* * *

_London, England. 1663._

The dim light from the handful of candles on a nearby table flickered feebly over the rough vestibule and the hand-hewn cross hung upon the wall behind it. They were the only source of light in the otherwise silent church.

The church was starting to show the wear of its years now. But the changes would be noticeable only to the eyes of one who knew it intimately. Carlisle Cullen was such a person. As he sat in the pew nearest to his father's vestibule, he let his gaze wander over the familiar room. The only things his father had ever changed here were the candles. Everything else was exactly the same as it had been since he was a boy. The same hard wooden pews, the same plain wooden cross on the wall—made by his father's own hand—and the same tarnished candle plates. But what life this place had once had in his youth had been overshadowed. The darkness of the times reached even into the church itself.

A thick drop of melted wax ran down the side of the largest flickering candle. Carlisle glanced over to watch its descent, and then slowly regained his feet. His father had preached here for years; it was one of the only things he still seemed to have energy for. Time was wearing on him far more than this place of worship. It was Carlisle's job now to head the crusade, to cleanse the lands of the evils that plagued it. He was not as forceful or as vengeful in the task as his father had been, but he was never unsure of the ones he deemed guilty. Tonight he would lead another hunt. It was almost time for him to join the group.

Carlisle looked up at his father's cross once more, taking a deep breath.

"Master Cullen?"

Carlisle turned. A figure stood at the entrance on the far side of the room, unrecognizable for the moment in the darkness. A lamp burned in the street beyond, but it did not illuminate the steps of the church. He studied the figure as it slowly approached him. It took only a moment to come close enough.

"Father Henry," he said in greeting. "What brings you to this area of London?"

"A visit to your father that was long overdue," Father Henry replied, a slight smile forming on his aged, thin face. "He told me you have taken up his mantle. I am proud of you for that."

Carlisle nodded. Father Henry had known his father for years, long before he had been born. The old man was one of the only people Thomas Cullen fully trusted, though to Carlisle's knowledge the two of them had spoken only rarely in the past few years.

"Your father seems in fair health," Father Henry continued. "All things considering. He chose a particularly difficult path to follow in life."

"He has done what he can," Carlisle replied, glancing towards the entrance. He was very hard-pressed on time now. "Is there anything I can do for you, Father?"

"Ah, I apologize, Carlisle. I am delaying your departure," he said, bowing his head slightly. "I am only here on Father Thomas's request. He asks that you go to see him upon your return. It does not matter what hour of the night that may be."

Carlisle gave Father Henry a confused look. His father had to speak with him about something important enough that it could not wait until morning, but not important enough to go to him immediately? He felt his brow furrow, momentarily distracted from his desire to depart.

"If my father needs to see me, then I will speak with him now."

He moved to pass by Father Henry, but the old man's hand was abruptly gripping his shoulder, impressive strength flowing through the withered fingers. Carlisle stared in open shock.

"Your father insisted that it can wait until your hunt is over," Father Henry said firmly.

These words dripped with sudden scorn. Carlisle watched as Father Henry's expression twisted into a grimace.

"Father Thomas has been my friend for many years," he continued. "It saddens me to see how far he has fallen."

"What do you mean?" Carlisle asked angrily, finally pulling himself out of the man's grasp. His sudden anger had snapped him out of his distraction.

Father Henry's eyes darkened as he dropped his hand back to his side, but he did not reply. Carlisle gritted his teeth slightly.

"Father Henry…" he began.

"Father Thomas was a good man," Father Henry interrupted. "He accomplished many deeds in his life. He had the potential to be even greater. But he has made his choice now. I cannot help him anymore." He paused. "He would have you follow his path. I beg you not to do so, Carlisle. You still have a chance to escape this."

"Escape what?" Carlisle demanded, now highly agitated. His voice echoed off the walls of the silent church. "Father Henry, this is madness! How dare you suggest that my father…"

"Your father made his choice," Father Henry repeated.

"And what choice was that?"

"He signed the contract."

Carlisle took a step back, a look of blank shock on his face.

"Your father's initial intentions were just," Father Henry continued quietly. "But he has damned himself by signing the contract. And he is prepared to take you down with him." The old man's expression suddenly turned sorrowful. "You are your father's son. But do not make your father's mistake."

Carlisle took another step back, full of rage and disbelief at the old man's words.

"Enough of this!" he snapped. "Father Henry, you have lost your mind! I refuse to believe this. I have been delayed long enough. When I return, I will speak with my father as he requests. I do not wish to see you here again. Good night, Father."

Carlisle turned and strode towards the entrance. Father Henry did not try to follow or protest. However, at the last possible moment, his voice echoed in the silence.

"The beast you hunt tonight is weak with hunger, Carlisle," he said. "It will not have the strength to fight. Strike fast."

Despite himself, Carlisle paused for a moment at those words. How did Father Henry know anything about what he was hunting? Not even the men he was setting out to meet knew much about the hunt tonight. But his anger with the old man conquered his curiosity. He continued on without another glance back.

Several minutes passed before Father Henry moved, long after the hoofbeats of Carlisle's horse had faded into the distance. He slowly turned and walked to the low table with the flickering candles. He blew out each one carefully, taking his time. When the church was cast into complete darkness once more, he made his way towards the entrance. The street beyond was as silent as the church itself, the soft thump of the door closing echoing much more clearly than normal. Father Henry stepped down onto the street and sighed deeply, his aged eyes scanning the area.

It took a moment, but he finally spotted the small, hunched figure standing across the street. He could see small watering eyes staring at him, wide and unblinking. He ignored it, turning to take his leave.

"What have you done?"

The voice was whisper-soft, and filled with terror and grief. Father Henry kept walking, pretending not to have heard.

"_What have you done_?!" The figure was abruptly standing in front of him, blocking his way.

It had the appearance of an ancient woman, but her eyes blazed gold in her ugly wrinkled face. Her voice had raised several octaves in her fury, but Father Henry did not flinch.

"What have you done?" the woman said again, her voice cracking as tears began to flow from her glowing eyes. Small hands gripped the front of his coat, holding him with unnatural strength. "What have you _done,_ Hunter?!"

Hearing her true name shook old demi-being from her concentration. She turned her full gaze upon the other, the angel's glow filling her own eyes through the mask of the wrinkled old man, burning and severe. The other did not back down.

"What had to be done, Annemarie," she replied darkly. Her voice was no longer Father Henry's soft base, but deeper and stronger. Her true voice. There was no point hiding what she was from one of her own kind. "Carlisle will be safe now."

"Safe!?" Annemarie shrieked, her voice echoing into the silent air. "You have sent him into the lion's den! He was supposed to make the decision about his father on his own. You _interfered_, Hunter! The rules of the balance…"

"Do _not_ lecture me on the rules of the balance," Hunter snarled back. "You have fawned over Carlisle Cullen since the day he was born. Do you call that abiding by the rules?"

"I never took his choices from him," Annemarie hissed. "But you…you…" More tears flowed down her face, her hands shaking. "Why, Hunter? Why did you do this to him?"

Hunter did not reply for several moments, turning her eyes away from the other and looking around. The street was still silent and empty. Annemarie's hysterics had not alerted anyone.

"I failed," she said finally. "We thought we could trust him…but he betrayed us. And Father Cullen is damned for it." She took a deep breath, closing her eyes.

At that moment, soft hoofbeats echoed in the silence. Hunter looked around, her eyes smoldering. A rider stood in the distance, obscured by the darkness that lay between each streetlamp. The horse tossed its head, and a strange fiery glow seemed to flare out from its eyes and nostrils. Hunter gritted her teeth, hearing Annemarie stumble backwards.

"Do you hear me, Ghost Rider?!" she screamed. "You will never find him now! Once this night has passed, he will be beyond your reach. You may have the father, but you will never have the son! You will _never have the son_!!"

A loud piercing scream echoed as the horse reared up onto its hind legs, fire trailing from its hooves. Behind her, Hunter heard Annemarie flee in terror, but she stood her ground. She had nothing to lose now.

"You will never have the son!" she kept screaming as the Rider turned and started galloping towards her, blazing fire in his wake. "You will never have the son! You will never have the son!!"

* * *

_Los Angeles, California. Present day. Two weeks later._

"This is perfect!"

Carlisle could not restrain a laugh. His family had barely stepped inside the hotel suite before Alice's voice had echoed in glee. She had gone straight to the catalogues of local clothing boutiques that the hotel had set out for her at her request, and he had only to turn the corner into the main sitting room to find her flipping through them. Her eyes were alight with excitement, her mind no doubt already forming a schedule for visiting every one of the stores listed in front of her. Rosalie was looking over her shoulder, silently sharing her enthusiasm. Jasper and Emmett had the defeated looks on their faces of men who were going to be expected to stand in dressing rooms for a day under pain of death.

The expanse of the city outside of the wide windows on the far side of the room was obscured in low cloud. At the moment, it did not look all that different from Forks, if not for the blare of city noise and the thick smell of smog.

"It has been a very long time since Los Angeles has suffered weather like this," he commented, mostly to himself.

"Our good luck!" Alice said with a smile. "We'll have lots of fun. I can't wait to get started. Especially with you, Bella. There's so much I have to teach you!"

Carlisle turned around as Alice spoke. Bella was walking towards him, shadowed by Edward, who had an arm around her waist. She had a slightly nervous look on her face as she studied Alice.

"Should I be afraid about that?" she asked, glancing at Edward.

Edward laughed lightly in response.

"Probably," he replied.

It had been Alice's idea to invite Bella to come along with them. And it had also been Alice who had convinced her father Charlie to allow her to come. Her excitement at having a new person to purchase clothing for had almost been palpable. So far, Bella was going along with it all gracefully. But then again, she had yet to really see the full scale of what Alice had planned.

Carlisle focused more on Bella as she and Edward passed him. She was leaning a little more than usual against him, favoring her leg a little. The cast had been removed only last week. He could see her leg still felt a little sore to her.

"How are you feeling, Bella?" he asked kindly.

"Fine," she replied, her eyes and most of her attention still focused on Alice.

"We won't have Alice dragging you off right away, Bella dear," Esme assured gently, having been the last one to enter the suite. She shut the door and came up to stand beside Carlisle.

Alice scowled slightly, her eyes still focused on the catalogues. Everyone laughed, though Rosalie's was through gritted teeth. She had been the only one not thrilled with the prospect of having Bella join them. But she kept her irritation mostly to herself. None of the family had ever seen Edward happier. Nobody wanted to tarnish his euphoria. Bella was rapidly becoming at complete ease around them, with the possible exception of Rosalie, having fully accepted them for what they were. Carlisle would always be grateful to her for filling the void in his son's heart.

"Carlisle, they are going to be looking for you to register soon," Alice said suddenly, her tone still slightly grumpy. "Down in the main conference hall. They'll have a specially labeled doctor's coat and tag for you." She looked him over once, then frowned sorrowfully. "It's gonna look so old-fashioned."

"Alice, doctors' coats aren't supposed to be fashionable," Emmett commented.

"They can be with a little effort!" Alice shoved one of the catalogues in Emmett's face. "See?"

Emmett had a lost expression on his face. His interest in fashion was even less than his interest in science. Rosalie laughed, and quickly distracted Alice from him with a few murmured comments of her own. Carlisle turned away, wrapping his arms around his wife, feeling her kiss him gently on the cheek.

"Watch out, Carlisle," Edward said, still grinning. "Alice is seriously considering asking you to change your presentation topic."

"Then I had better register before she makes up her mind," Carlisle replied lightly. He hugged Esme once more before releasing her. "I'll be right back."

He had only made it three steps out the suite door when he heard Alice speak up again.

"Ooh, Bella! This would look great on you!"

"On second thought, we'll go with Carlisle."

Carlisle laughed again and paused. He was joined a few seconds later by Bella and Edward. Alice let out a hiss as they shut the door.

"You can't keep her from me forever!"

Bella shook her head as they started down the corridor.

"Is this the only reason Alice wanted me to come?" She sounded slightly hurt. "Just to play dress-up?"

"Of course not," Edward replied. "She wants you to have a good time here in sunny L.A."

They had reached the elevators, and a wide set of windows on the far wall looked out over a landscape now blurred by rain.

"Sunny L.A.," Bella said, a humored smile on her face. "Yeah, right."

Both Edward and Carlisle laughed at this, and after a moment, Bella joined them. They stepped inside the elevator as the door slid open, and Edward kissed the top of Bella's head.

"We'll keep you out of the worst of it," he assured. "Alice's enthusiasm will cool off a bit soon."

"And how many parts of this city will she have dragged me to by then?"

"Probably about 99 percent of it."

The elevator door opened into the spacious lobby. Groups of people milled around, either waiting to approach the check-in desk or gravitating towards the wide double doors that led into the conference center of the hotel. It was clear Carlisle wasn't the only invited physician who had decided to bring his family along.

Bella and Edward followed him as he headed towards the conference center. A line of tables were set up just inside the doors, and the people sitting there were recording names and handing out folders of paperwork and nametags. Further in the expansive room, rows of displays advertised different hospitals, medical supply manufacturers, and research projects. Edward led Bella towards the nearest one while Carlisle waited in line. It took only a few minutes to reach the tables.

"Good morning, Dr. Cullen," the young woman taking his information said. "Your presentation is scheduled for tomorrow morning at 10:30. Dr. Arnissan, one of the event's hosts, has more information for you."

At that moment, an older man stepped forward. Carlisle turned and offered his hand, knowing that this had to be Dr. Arnissan himself. Arnissan smiled and shook his hand.

"Your presentation materials were sent last week. Everything should be ready for you," he began. "I am quite fascinated with your theories. I look forward to it."

"Thank you," Carlisle replied. "What is your field of expertise?"

Arnissan chuckled.

"I am actually an orthopedic surgeon over at Ravenscar Medical Center," he replied. "But I've done some extracurricular research in the past few years."

He paused to turn towards someone who had just called his name. Carlisle glanced towards Edward and Bella. They were still standing at the first display, looking politely interested at the demonstration taking place. He could not see what the topic was from this angle.

"Things here aren't due to get started until this evening," Arnissan said after a moment. "Dr. Cullen, perhaps I can interest you in a quick tour of Ravenscar? It is not far from here. And I think you will find our emergency department facilities to be impressive. We just completed a full overhaul of our systems."

At that moment, Edward and Bella returned to his side. Arnissan glanced at them.

"Oh, but I do not wish to take you away from your family," he said quickly. "I know several of our colleagues have taken this opportunity to include a vacation of sorts. I am sorry the weather is so dreadful."

"Feels like home, actually," Carlisle replied. "This is Edward, and Bella."

"Good morning," Arnissan greeted. "Are you here to support your father's presentation?"

"Yes, sir," Edward replied. "Or, I will be. I'm not too sure about Bella."

"Oh, no!" Bella retorted. "If Alice is going to drag me to every clothing store in Los Angeles, you're coming with me."

Arnissan laughed heartily.

"Ah, yes, my wife and daughter are the exact same way," he said sympathetically. "You are welcome to come to Ravenscar as well, if you wish. An excuse to avoid Miss Alice's enthusiasm, at least for a few hours."

Edward smiled at that, but Bella seemed slightly unsure.

"Hmm," she said. "Go to a hospital, or deal with Alice." She seemed genuinely unable to decide which one was more taxing. "Well, I really don't want to hurt Alice's feelings anymore."

"Excuse me," Arnissan interrupted suddenly. "But are you having pain in your leg?"

Carlisle glanced down. Bella was slightly favoring her left leg again. And Arnissan's eyes were alight with professional curiosity.

"I'm fine," Bella replied quickly.

"She…broke her leg a few weeks back. Just got the cast off," Edward explained, tightening his grip around her.

"And it is still sore sometimes?" Arnissan paused, a thoughtful expression on his face. "I wonder if there might still be a few small fissures in the bone left to heal. I do have a very powerful portable scanner at Ravenscar; just had it delivered three days ago. Can pick up a crack the size of a flea."

Bella looked horrified at the thought. But Edward looked interested, and Carlisle's professional interest had also been piqued.

"Just a quick few pictures, Miss Bella," Arnissan continued. "Nothing more, I promise."

"Best to make sure, Bella," Edward whispered. "Alice won't mind. It'll give her and Rosalie a chance to mess with Emmett and Jasper."

Bella nodded, seemingly reassured. Arnissan smiled happily.

"Excellent!" he said. "And I am sure you will enjoy the tour. Ravenscar really is a beautiful facility."


	5. First Glimpse

_**I want to apologize to my readers for the delay in posting this. It's been half-written for months. But it's been a hectic summer. Funny how I seem to find more time when it's not summer vacation!**_

**_I must also add that the character of Dr. Les Archer...not much you can do with figuring her out when she only had two minutes of movie time. But I did the best I could. _**

* * *

_Los Angeles, California. Same time._

Constantine was comfortable. Never in his life would he have believed he could admit such a thing here, being where he was, for the purpose he had come for. But he was comfortable. He sat relaxed on a moderately fancy office chair, his feet propped up on the corner of the counter in front of him, reading a magazine by the light of the panel of glowing monitors in front of him. The bag he had brought with him was sitting upon the counter next to his feet, but the only thing in that was a due library book.

He wasn't particularly paying attention to anything around him. People passed by the slightly open door leading out into the corridor. A page for a Dr. Arnissan echoed mechanically through the old intercom speakers in the ceiling. And in the corner of the room, a screensaver beeped with the bouncing of a rubber ball across the black screen. Constantine was not moved by any of this. He simply shifted his weight and turned the page of the magazine.

And then a door on the other side of the room opened. Constantine glanced up to see his preferred doctor—if there ever was such a person—enter. She carried a large plastic red envelope in her hands.

"Comfortable?" she asked, smiling as she approached.

"Very," Constantine replied smoothly, brandishing the magazine. "Gotta keep up with all that Brangelina bullshit."

"I prefer reading up on Keanu Reeves, myself."

"He's just a pretty face. There's nothing else to him." Constantine echoed this with a half-hearted roll of his eyes.

Dr. Les Archer laughed as she pulled two sheets of filmy plastic from the envelope. He obligingly removed his feet from the counter so Les could stick the pair of x-rays on the light panels above the line of monitors. She flipped a switch, and they flickered to life, revealing the pair of chest films.

"John…" Les began, shaking her head. "I wasn't going to believe it until I saw it. Hell, I still don't believe it, and yet the proof is staring me in the face."

"Hell being the operative word," Constantine replied, standing. "Well, Les? Am I gonna make it?"

Les managed to hold a serious expression for a moment longer. Then, she burst out laughing.

"Do you realize how much tampering I'll have to do to convince the file room that the dates on these scans and records were printed backwards?"

Constantine shot Les a grin as he studied the x-rays. He remembered the one on the left. The lungs were heavily speckled with black, diseased and rotting. That x-ray was of a man with only months to live. The one on the right, however, was the picture of health. No blemish on the image at all. Les was gazing at him with open admiration.

"It's a miracle, John," she said. "I never thought I'd see one like this, but…"

"I know," he interrupted. "Thanks."

Les smiled again.

"So what have you been doing with yourself, John?" she asked. "Rumor has it you're keeping very unusual company these days."

"I guess so." Constantine shrugged. "Job's been a little slow lately. I have more free time than I'm used to."

He reached out for his bag, but Les beat him to it. She glanced inside as she handed it over, and blinked.

"Wow," she said. "Is that one of Hunter's books?"

Constantine rolled his eyes and pulled the book out, showing her the aging cover. She raised an eyebrow as she studied it.

"John, how on earth did you actually manage to find anything in that library, or did you just grab at random?"

"I got this because the librarian likes me," Constantine replied. "Or she likes good scotch. Doesn't matter either way."

His gaze lingered on the book for a long moment. It was the same one Hunter had brought out to him that day in the library. And it had been a bear to translate enough of the archaic Latin for him to get a halfway decent idea of the information the book held. It would have been a hell of a lot easier had Beeman still been alive.

Examining the book brought back that moment in the library, staring at the elevator doors as they slid open. In that moment, the Ghost Rider was revealed to him for the first time.

His jaw had nearly hit the floor. And behind him, Hunter had gasped.

"Oh…my…" she had breathed.

"Am I the last thing you two expected?" the Ghost Rider had asked, approaching them. "Figures."

Constantine had glanced once at the Rider, then turned back to Hunter.

"Does Lu often make teenage girls his Rider?"

Hunter had shaken her head, adjusting her spectacles as though she could not believe the sight of the young woman standing before them. She looked completely average for a girl her age. Plain features, very short brown hair, not overly tall, wearing a light blue baby-tee, jeans, and sneakers. Not in any way threatening or imposing.

She had approached them without hesitation, eyeing him almost as critically as he was her.

"You're John Constantine?" she had asked.

"You're Ghost Rider?" he had replied.

A moment of silence passed. Constantine had glanced once again at Hunter, who had adjusted her spectacles one more time and pushed the cookie tin towards the center of her desk.

"Ginger crisp, dear?" she had offered.

It had all rolled on from there. When he had been forced to start thinking about the Rider, Constantine had imagined a powerful warrior, perhaps a military man or a biker. He had not been expecting a sixteen-year-old girl from Louisiana whose only excuse for coming to find him was curiosity.

"They talk about you everywhere," she had said. "You fell, and yet you made it out again."

"Constantine made the right choices, Rider," Hunter had responded.

"And what sort of bullshit did Lu pull over you to make you agree to this?" Constantine had asked.

"A promise," the Rider had said, very quietly. And that was the only thing he and Hunter could get her to say on it.

The Rider had not stayed very long. Curiosity had rapidly grown to shyness. This had seemed to be so against the mystique of the Rider that Hunter had been rendered speechless. It was more out of curiosity than any kind of desire to be polite that made Constantine shoot a final question at her as she stepped back into the elevator.

"What's your name?"

The girl had finally given a very slight smile.

"Lucy," she had replied. "See you around."

"John?"

Les' voice broke through his thoughts. He looked up.

"Something on your mind?" she asked.

"Nothing important," Constantine replied.

He had gone back to his normal routine after that morning. However, though she never came close enough to speak to him, Constantine had spotted Lucy every now and then over the past two weeks. She would always be standing silently, blending in to the crowd, just watching.

So far, Constantine didn't know what to make of her behavior. Was she watching him under Lu's orders, or just because she wanted to? Every time he got annoyed enough to want to ask, she had disappeared before he could approach.

He glanced at Les again. She wasn't as familiar with things as some of his contacts, but she was the mother of a teenage daughter.

"Hey Les, what do…" he began.

"And we can look at the images right in here," an older voice said suddenly. "We have…oh, good afternoon, Dr. Archer."

Constantine turned around. An older man had stepped into the room, carrying a plastic red envelope identical to the one Les held. He was followed by a blonde-haired man. Constantine was about to turn away, but then he did a double-take and stared at the blonde man again.

In his line of work, he had seen a lot of unusual things. And he was experienced enough to be able to stand in a crowded room and be able to pick out the unusual. This doctor was so dazzling that he would have stood out inside a packed Super Bowl arena.

If there was one trait about half-breeds, both angels and demons, that made Constantine's life even more difficult than it already was, it was their ability to change their appearances at need. A half-breed could shift from a teenage girl to a wrinkled old man in order to carry out their work. The point was to blend in, but Constantine had met more than his fair share of half-breeds who abused it. Those were the ones he most often ended up deporting.

But this doc…wasn't a half-breed. Constantine rolled his eyes privately, momentarily irritated with himself. Hadn't he taught himself over the years to sense the presence of a half-breed? Freakishly handsome though the guy was, the telltale…aura, for lack of a better word…that gave half-breeds away wasn't there. This guy was just the lottery winner in the gene pool.

The doctor had noticed his stare, and was returning it with a curious and polite glance. The other doctor had also looked at him, the expression on his face apologetic.

"I am sorry for interrupting, Dr. Archer. I did not realize you were with a patient." He gestured to the other doc. "This is Dr. Cullen. He's in town for the conference."

"Nice to meet you," Les replied. "And it isn't a problem, Dr. Arnissan. We were almost finished here."

Dr. Arnissan glanced at the x-rays on the wall, and then did his own double-take. His eyes focused upon the image hanging on the left. Dr. Cullen turned as well, and almost at the same moment both their eyes widened in surprise.

Constantine took that as his cue to leave.

"Thanks for everything, Les," he said gruffly, stuffing Hunter's book back in his bag.

He turned to leave, but Dr. Arnissan cleared his throat.

"Sir, I know a very well-respected team over at Mount Sinai," he began. "I…"

"It's alright," Constantine said quickly. He shot a glance at Les, who was hiding a smile behind Dr. Arnissan's back. "I know what I'm doing."

He left quickly, before either of them could say anything more. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Les pull down the images and slip them back in the envelope. Dr. Arnissan was speaking to her, but Dr. Cullen was watching him leave. The strange golden color of his eyes glinted more noticeably in the dim light.

Okay, so maybe he wasn't a gene pool lottery winner. He could simply be a plastic surgeon's favorite.

Constantine kept up a brisk pace until he was striding down the hospital's front steps. He may appreciate Les, but he hated Ravenscar. Way too many memories.

It was a typical late afternoon now. The rain had finally stopped, though the skies were still thick with clouds. The temperature was rapidly rising, growing sticky and humid. A low rumble that could be heard over the noise of traffic warned of yet another barrage before nightfall. Constantine increased his pace when he reached the sidewalk. The book was safe in the bag for now, but he tucked it closer just in case.

He hadn't translated a great deal of the book. His skills in ancient Latin really were rustier than he had anticipated. Constantine had only really focused on the parts Hunter had pointed out. There was a lot more information in there he had skipped over. The book was more journal than reference, written by a priest sometime in the mid 1600's. He couldn't help much but wonder how a priest had managed to figure out so much about the Ghost Rider.

There was more to the whole thing than he could have ever realized. The fact that the Rider was a living human, bound to serve but still possessing of free will, he knew. The fact that the Rider's contract was bound to one task, and not for all eternity…well, that had surprised him. If the Rider succeeded he was freed from the contract, but damned if he failed. The one the priest had written about had been commanded to hunt down some sort of artifact. The exact description of said artifact had never been explained. And the Rider had failed to find it, whatever it was.

At least it explained how Lucifer had been able to dance around the rules of the balance. The humans who served as Riders made the choice themselves, and it remained their choice whether or not to accomplish the deeds set to them, which in effect took all the blame for their actions off of Lu's shoulders. And they were never things that would help them win salvation. Getting out of their contracts usually meant a trip to Hell anyway.

"Lu, you sly bastard," Constantine said to himself under his breath, approaching a near-empty crosswalk. "You'll jump through any loophole you can find."

The stoplights had turned red. Constantine started across the street, barely hearing the grumble of cars as they waited for the light to change again. But what he did hear, when he was just about halfway across, was his name.

"Mr. Constantine, may I speak with you?"

Constantine slowed and looked back over his shoulder. It was to his immense surprise that he saw the blonde-haired doctor approaching him.

"What the hell?" he murmured, suspicious.

The doctor had suddenly increased his pace. He was running now.

"Mr. Constantine!" he shouted.

"What the hell do you want?" Constantine demanded.

"Watch out!!"

Constantine heard the sharp screech of brakes at that moment. A large SUV had taken the turn against the light, and was barreling straight for him.

The world was suddenly spinning around him. The scream of brakes and the roar of engines was mixed with the pounding of sharp footsteps and shouting voices. He saw a white flicker of the doctor's coat, the glint off the chrome of the SUV's grill, and something brownish-gray and…furry?

But then the impact came, and pain flared up the left side of his body. And then everything went black.


	6. Crash

**_Author's Note:_ There is a tiny bit of strong swearing in this chapter. **

* * *

_Los Angeles, California. Ravenscar Medical Center emergency department. _

"And here's the last one. Just hold still one more second, Miss Swan. And…there. Finished."

A soft mechanical whirr echoed from the portable x-ray as the lever automatically withdrew and folded itself against the base. The tech fiddled with the readout screen, smiling slightly.

"I will have these printed in a few minutes, Dr. Arnissan," he said.

"Excellent." Arnissan nodded, dismissing the tech.

Carlisle nodded in approval as he looked around to Bella, who was very happily pulling her sock and shoe back on. Edward was gently tucking locks of hair back behind her ears, his expression serene. Carlisle felt a flood of warmth in his heart. Despite everything Bella had been through in the last few months, she was still completely dedicated to Edward. And he had never seen his son more content.

"That portable is a very handy machine," Arnissan commented suddenly. "Pity the software that lets us send the images it takes to our computers was shipped late. Miss Swan's scans will have to be printed the old fashioned way." He shrugged and smiled. "But sometimes I prefer a nice piece of film over a computer screen. Makes it easier to see the small details." He turned back fully and offered his hand to Bella. "Thank you, Miss Swan, for tolerating me. I get the impression you are not altogether comfortable in hospitals."

Bella smiled sheepishly. Edward chuckled and rubbed her shoulders. And there was a knock on the door.

"Finished, Doctor?"

"Ah. My apologies, Dr. Galiano. We are finished here."

The dim sounds of activity rose in volume as the door was opened fully. The ER of Ravenscar Medical Center was busy. But although it was almost three times the size of the ER in Forks, the staff worked with the upmost efficiency. Even when he followed Edward, Bella, and Arnissan out of the room they had borrowed for Bella's scan, the nurses paused solid only for a few seconds to stare at him and his son. Then, they went back to work, only stealing glances when they thought nobody would notice. Behind him, Carlisle heard Edward chuckle.

"What?" Bella whispered back, her tone confused.

"Nothing," Edward replied.

Arnissan was speaking quietly with Dr. Galiano, who had already done her fair share of staring when they had first arrived. Now, they turned toward him, and Carlisle looked at them expectantly.

"Dr. Galiano needs the room now, so why don't I give you a tour of Ravenscar's minor care area while we wait for Miss Swan's images to print?"

Bella visibly winced. Arnissan noticed, and laughed warmly.

"Of course, I forgot. You are not altogether comfortable with hospitals."

"She can wait in the lounge," Dr. Galiano offered. "And you might want to hurry…I have a bar brawl coming in."

"Anything on my end?" Arnissan asked.

Dr. Galiano laughed.

"The guy got a barstool broken over his right hip. I think you need to go warm up the OR."

"Why so confident?" Carlisle asked, his professional curiosity piqued again. It had been years since he last worked in a trauma center.

"It's LA, Dr. Cullen. The barstool was steel."

Out of the corner of his eye, Carlisle saw Bella blanch. He nodded and reached out to put a hand on her shoulder. Edward whispered comfortingly in her ear, and gently led her away.

The lounge was very similar to the one in the Forks ER. A scattering of chairs surrounded an oval table in the middle of the room. CNN played on the TV in the far corner. A nurse was sorting through an overstuffed refrigerator.

"People need to learn to label their crap," she grumbled to herself as she straightened and slammed the door shut. "Otherwise, how on earth can you…woah."

She had turned and stared straight at Edward, her eyes going wide. Edward tightened his grip around Bella's waist. Bella seemed to be trying to resist rolling her eyes.

"Thank you, Dana," Arnissan said pointedly.

"Oh." The nurse started. "Sorry."

She left quickly. Arnissan shook his head, looking embarrassed.

"I apologize," he said. "Our staff normally shows much more professional dignity."

Carlisle only nodded at this, and exchanged a glance with Edward. Experience had long shown their family that it was best to simply brush off these occurrences. Bella was glancing around curiously, seemingly more at ease now that they were off the main floor of the ER.

"The radiology department is two floors up," Arnissan said. "But Ravenscar's ER has its own x-ray and CT scanners, to keep patient flow moving smoothly. We have, on average, the shortest waiting times and the highest satisfaction rates of all the facilities in Los Angeles."

"Congratulations," Carlisle said. "Very impressive."

"_Dr. Arnissan, please call extension 2552._"

"Excellent," Arnissan said, glancing up at the oval intercom in the ceiling. "That would be Miss Swan's scans."

"I think I'll take Bella down to the cafeteria," Edward said. "The tour has been fascinating, though. Thank you, sir."

"You are very welcome," Arnissan replied. "I will not keep your father for much longer. This will only take a minute."

Carlisle smiled at Bella and Edward.

"An afternoon with Alice looking a little better?" he asked.

"Sort of," Bella whispered back, blushing. "Though I suppose it will be interesting to see what this hospital has in the way of cafeteria food."

"Better than average, I must say," Arnissan said suddenly, approaching the lounge door to hold it open for them. "Though I do recommend you avoid the baked manicotti they have on special today. They never fail to overcook it. You'll be trying to chew on rubber."

A few minutes later, Bella and Edward were off towards the cafeteria, and Carlisle was exiting the elevator into the radiology wing after Arnissan. The tech from before was standing outside a file room, a large red plastic envelope in hand.

"They came out great, sir," he reported.

"Excellent." Arnissan took the envelope, and continued on down the corridor.

Carlisle looked around curiously as they walked. The radiology department here was very much up to date with technology. He actually paused for a moment to admire the open MRI when they passed it.

"And we can look at the images right in here," Arnissan said suddenly, turning into a relatively nondescript doorway that led into a darkened viewing room. "We have…oh, good afternoon, Dr. Archer."

When Carlisle entered the room behind Arnissan, he was quick to see that they had interrupted another consultation. A female doctor stood next to a man in a black coat with a book in his hands. Both had turned to look at them as they entered. And typically, as Carlisle watched, the man did a double-take and stared at him for a long moment. Carlisle glanced back politely, waiting for his attention to turn away. It did when Arnissan spoke again.

"I am sorry for interrupting, Dr. Archer. I did not realize you were with a patient," he was saying apologetically. "This is Dr. Cullen. He's in town for the conference."

"Nice to meet you," Dr. Archer replied. Carlisle nodded in response. "And it isn't a problem, Dr. Arnissan. We were almost finished here."

Carlisle saw Arnissan's eyes automatically turn to the two x-rays already hanging on the viewing boards. He turned too, and he felt a sudden bolt of shock flood through him. His eyes widened as he stared at the two chest scans. One was normal, clean. But the other…

"Thanks for everything, Les," the man said suddenly. Carlisle turned back around as the man stuffed the book into the bag at his side.

In that moment, Carlisle caught a whiff of a very strange scent, one that completely did not belong in this modern room of computers and X-rays. It was the smell of ancient leather, dusty and dry. It brought back memories of monasteries, old university libraries, and centuries long gone. The book the man held was very, very old.

Very old…and very familiar.

Carlisle's attention was completely diverted. He barely heard Arnissan clear his throat. The other doctor's focus was still on the man's condemning x-rays.

"Sir, I know a very well-respected team over at Mount Sinai," he said. "I…"

"It's alright," the man interrupted sharply. "I know what I'm doing."

The man left quickly, seemingly eager to leave before more questions could be asked. Carlisle watched him disappear, then turned back around. Dr. Archer had just removed the man's x-rays and placed them back into another red envelope. Arnissan was gently arguing with her.

"Les, I do agree that your patient's case is terminal, but…"

"George, John Constantine is a very intelligent man. He made his choice a long time ago. He understands the consequences of that. I've been working with him for a very long time, and I am not going to contest his decision."

Arnissan sighed.

"Alright, Les. I apologize."

Dr. Archer nodded, then turned and left the room. Arnissan shook his head.

"Every patient reserves the right to choose their own means of treatment, or to refuse treatment altogether," he said, mostly to himself. "I wish Mr. Constantine the best." He shifted the envelope in his hands. "Well, back to the matter at hand. Time to see if our new scanner can reveal any hidden surprises in Miss Swan's…is something wrong, Dr. Cullen?"

During the conversation between Arnissan and Dr. Archer, Carlisle had been deep in thought. The book John Constantine had looked familiar…but for the longest moment, he hadn't been able to figure out why. Until the slightest haze of memory, dim and blurred, crossed his mind. A late night, and an old man hunched over a book, writing for hours on end. A fascination that had almost consumed the later years of the man's life.

Carlisle had never found out what his father had been writing. He had been changed while Thomas Cullen was still working on it, and the book had disappeared before he had returned to London to reclaim some of his old possessions. But he would always remember what the cover of that book looked like, despite the centuries.

It couldn't possibly be the same book.

But…

"Dr. Arnissan, I will be back in just a minute," he said abruptly.

"Of course." Arnissan looked very confused. "I will read these scans while you are gone."

Carlisle nodded, then turned and left the room. It was not hard to follow the trace but distinctive scents of leather left behind by John Constantine's passing.

The trail faded when he stepped through Ravenscar's front doors. The rain had stopped, but the smell in the air was still thick with moisture. The clouds above hung heavy and dark, threatening another downpour. On the street below, people were still shuffling around under umbrellas or bunched up under jackets. And at the distant intersection, Carlisle's sharp eyes spotted John Constantine's retreating form.

Carlisle had absolutely no idea what unearthly desire was making him follow this stranger. And yet, he couldn't prevent himself from striding purposefully forward. The people he passed glanced at him in confusion, noting his white coat and visitor's badge. But he did not acknowledge them. He continued down the rain-slick sidewalk, watching as the man started crossing the street.

"Mr. Constantine," he called when he was close enough to be heard. "May I speak with you?"

Constantine slowed slightly and glanced back at him. The look on his face was one of irritation and suspicion. Carlisle saw his lips clearly form the words "what the hell?"

And then, Carlisle saw the SUV. It was surging down the far turn lane, showing no signs of slowing. Nobody had seen it yet except him. He broke into a run. A feeling of dread was creeping through him.

"Mr. Constantine!" he shouted.

"What the hell do you want?" the man demanded back. He had completely stopped now.

"Watch out!!"

The SUV turned, the force of it making the tires scream as they slid and swerved over the pavement. Carlisle had pushed himself forward, racing into the intersection, racing against the SUV that was coming closer with each passing second. He could clearly see the man behind the wheel. He was stone pale, and the look in his eyes was one of primal fear.

Carlisle reached Constantine in seconds, but it was too late to avoid impact. He clamped his arms around the man and pushed him forward, turning so that his body was between Constantine and the grill of the SUV. People were beginning to scream now, car horns were starting to honk. And out of the barest corner of his vision, something large flickered. Something big, and moving faster than even he could track it, was barreling towards the SUV.

The object impacted the driver's side of the SUV, just inches in front of them, at the same time the vehicle struck Carlisle. The crash echoed like an explosion in his ears. His body was knocked sideways, his grip on Constantine dragging them both down onto the asphalt. He knew at the sound of the man's impact with the ground that he was knocked cold. At the same time, he saw the SUV pass them. The entire left side of the vehicle was in the air, the impact of whatever had hit its side pushing it past its center of balance. Protesting metal and shattering glass echoed in a singular sickening groan. It should have run them over. But instead the SUV fishtailed and rolled, missing them by inches, sending debris flying in all directions. And just to his left, a set of hooves struck the ground.

The figure was visible for only a fraction of a second. It had jumped clean over them, the scrawny horse and its petite rider. It was gone before Carlisle could get a good look at it, charging forward at a lightning fast gallop. It shimmered into view for another second more as it passed the rolling SUV. The SUV burst into flame. And then, the figure was gone, and the burning vehicle came to a final stop on its roof, a mass of twisted metal, fire, and black smoke.

The crash happened in a matter of seconds. Had he not been a vampire, Carlisle would never have been able to see the details so clearly. For a moment, he lay still on the pavement, stunned at what he had just witnessed. The commotion and chaos was pandemonium around him. People were screaming and running, cars were blaring their horns. Sirens sounded in the distance.

Carlisle sat up and turned to Constantine. The man lay sprawled beside him. A small trickle of blood flowed from a shallow gash at his hairline. He quickly leaned over him, pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket even as he began examining him for other injuries.

"Mr. Constantine, are you alright?" he demanded over the growing noise. "Can you hear me?"

In response, the man groaned softly. Carlisle saw him blink, and sighed in relief. At first glance, it did not appear as though he had suffered any major injuries. And then his eyes flickered to the bag that lay a few feet ahead. The book had slid halfway out of it, and lay on the damp pavement, every detail of its ancient front visible to Carlisle's eyes. As Constantine slowly opened his eyes fully and glanced over at the inferno, Carlisle reached out and grabbed the book. For a long moment, he and Constantine stared into each other's eyes.

"What did you see?" Constantine demanded groggily. "Something passed over us. What did you see?"

Carlisle was confused. He was almost ready to convince himself the rider was just a trick upon his eyes. But had he seen it too?

Constantine glared at him, then tried to sit up. Carlisle held him down, shaking his head automatically.

"Stay down, Mr. Constantine. You are injured," he instructed.

"What the hell did you see?" Constantine growled again.

Carlisle hesitated. He didn't know what to think.

"I saw…" he paused. "I saw a horse and rider. It was there, and then it vanished."

Constantine groaned and rolled his eyes.

"That's just fucking perfect."

Carlisle was even more confused. But he had no more time to question. Because the crowds had finally converged upon them. The first to reach them was an old man in a plain gray suit. A hat was drawn down low over his wrinkled face. He had come up from behind Carlisle, and he spared him a glance as the old man crouched down beside them.

"Are you two alright?" he said in an ancient, gritty voice.

Constantine had turned to stare at the old man, his slightly unfocused eyes widening in shock.

"What the hell are you doing out here?"

Those words finally made Carlisle turn fully. And as he looked the man full in the face, he openly gasped in shock. The man's eyes flashed in equal amazement.

"Carlisle?" he said breathily, as if unable to believe what he was seeing.

Carlisle was speechless for a long moment. He could not hear the voices of the people swarming around them, or the sirens as the first ambulance and fire engine pulled onto the scene. He only stared at the wrinkled old man, at the face he could still recognize even after centuries.

And then, he felt himself speaking the astonished words before he could stop himself.

"Father Henry?!"

* * *

**_And the plot now thickens. Thanks for tagging with me for the ride! This story is about to get much more interesting. ;)_**


	7. Digging Into the Past

**_Author's Note: _To avoid having to say it for every chapter, just watch out for sporadic swearing from now on. This chapter begins to reveal some of the backstory. The next chapter will have the rest. So...yes, this one might be a bit confusing.**

* * *

_London, England. 1663._

There was fire everywhere. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Hunter could hear the dull roar of the blaze. She lay prone upon the cobblestone street, agony ripping through every nerve in her body. Her hold on the form she took when she stood as Father Henry had long since been shattered. The entire world to her at that moment was nothing but the smell of sulfur, the licking flames, and burning flesh.

Until something pale appeared in front of her. Through blurred eyes, Hunter could just barely make out the pair of bare feet. She blinked slowly, a soft groan escaping.

"Time to wake up, Hunter," a cold voice said flatly.

Hunter groaned again, but this time, it was exasperation breaking through the pain.

"Gabriel," she whispered.

There was silence for a long moment from the other demi-being. The fire continued to burn around them, hot and bright. Finally, the other sank to his knees. At first sight, it was hard to tell if Gabriel was male or female in his natural form. A fair face with pale grey eyes was framed by golden curls. As Hunter's gaze finally focused, she let out a low hiss at the patient half-smile on his face.

"What happened here, Hunter?" Gabriel asked gently, shaking his head slightly as he folded his hands and tucked them under his chin.

"You know what happened," Hunter replied slowly. With great effort, she managed to raise herself up onto her elbows.

"What I see here is a very big mess," Gabriel replied. "Pity. I rather liked that church."

Hunter's eyes bulged. She struggled to sit up and turn around. A groan escaped as she saw the all-consuming fire, devouring Father Thomas' beloved church. People swarmed around it, trying to fight the flames. They did not see Hunter or Gabriel in the street, flanked on all sides by burning debris and the smoldering pair of corpses. She heard Gabriel sigh, and turned to face him.

"You really screwed up this time," Gabriel said in a conversational tone. "Do I have to list off all the rules you've pounded to dust? The balance seems to mean nothing to you."

"The balance." With strength gained by anger, Hunter managed to heave herself to her knees. She gestured behind her. "The Rider is not a part of the balance."

"In a sense, but the Rider was also a living human being." He paused. "_Was_ being the operative word. However, he was trying to attack you first. So I suppose you can argue that you were only defending yourself." Gabriel stood, looking around. "But I was not referring to the Rider, or even to the fact that the backlash of the blow you dealt to kill the Rider is now going to burn down that handsome old church. I was referring to Master Carlisle Cullen, and to his woebegone father."

Gabriel began walking in narrow circles around her. Hunter bowed her head and gritted her teeth. She knew what was coming next. She also knew Gabriel was going to take his dear sweet time with it.

"We cannot interfere with the lives of humans, Hunter. You know this. There is no excuse for your actions." Gabriel shook his head. "You had good intentions, of course. The plan you formed with Father Thomas had potential. To redeem someone who had fallen as far as the Ghostrider…that would have been a first. But you became distracted. You lost your way. And you let them both slip through."

"The Rider lied...he didn't want to be saved…" Hunter gasped quietly, her body shuttering in agony. "He only wanted…Thomas…"

"You should have seen that." Gabriel's tone was abruptly cold and fierce. Hunter winced. "You _did_ see it! But you ignored your instinct. You took the Rider at his word. And because of that the whole Cullen family is now damned."

Hunter hissed more loudly this time. Her eyes flashed as she finally raised her head to glare defiantly at him.

"No," she snapped.

"_Yes_," Gabriel snarled back. "You are blind even now. Can you not sense what has happened?"

Hunter stared blankly at him, confused. Gabriel gave a slow mirthless laugh.

"Well?" he pressed.

"Gabriel, I have no time for this," Hunter replied. She tried to struggle to her feet, but her legs refused to bear her weight. She had been beyond weakened by killing the Rider. "I know I broke the rules. I do not care. I spared the son. And now with the Rider dead I have more time to help Thomas. There has to be something…"

Gabriel laughed again.

"You never even tried to find out what Father Thomas gave his soul for in the contract, did you? More worried about interfering in a human's life than discovering exactly how the Rider managed to betray you." He shook his head. "Hunter, it is too late to help Father Thomas. He is _dead._"

Icy shock flooded through Hunter, momentarily blocking out the heat of the blaze. She could feel her skin paling, her eyes widening. Her breath came in a shocked gasp. Gabriel gazed at her grimly.

"No," she whispered.

"Yes," Gabriel replied softly. "Father Thomas was very capable to stipulate in the contract that he could get his son to help if he himself failed. If Carlisle did not agree to assist tonight, Thomas' life was over. You ensured that Carlisle would never make that meeting. The Rider sensed it. So he claimed the father before going to hunt down the son. He found you instead. And, well…" He looked around critically. "You know the rest."

"No," Hunter gasped. Her eyes narrowed, shaking in fury. "No! NO! You are lying!!"

"What is done is done. You will never be able to change that," Gabriel continued ruthlessly. "Father Thomas is dead, and you are guilty of the largest breach of the rules of the balance I have ever seen. This Rider is dead, but his predecessors will remember. The contract has not been nulled. Carlisle will always be hunted."

"What has not seen, cannot be seen," Hunter whispered flatly. "Carlisle has never seen."

"But thanks to you, he now has _plenty_ of time to see."

"He never will. I will make sure of that."

"No, you will not."

Hunter hissed, her eyes flashing.

"You cannot stop me, Gabriel."

"He can. He's clipped your wings, Hunter. You will never serve His noble purpose again."

So that was the pain and exhaustion she was feeling. Hunter gasped again, sagging back down onto the street. Her wings were still there—she could feel them—but they were now heavy and unyielding. Useless.

"But He does have one consolation," Gabriel said.

Hunter heard something hit the ground in front of her. She looked up. Gabriel had dropped a plain leather-bound book.

"Father Thomas wrote this before his death. Among other things, he recorded everything he learned about the Rider. Take this to the collection in Budapest. It will be your duty to watch over it."

Hunter did not protest. She could not. Slowly, she reached out and grasped the book, holding it tight to her chest. She did not sense Gabriel approaching and crouching down until he was right in front of her. He forced her to meet his fiery gold eyes.

"Consider yourself lucky tonight, Hunter," he said softly. "Many others have been demoted and sent straight to Hell for far less. Maybe in your penance you will learn why He has decided to spare your life. Because I certainly do not understand why you have been shown such mercy."

And with that, Gabriel was gone. Hunter slowly heaved herself to her feet, staggering slightly as she turned around. The church had burnt nearly to the ground now, though the flames were finally under some semblance of control. The only part of the structure left standing was the back wall. The cross Father Thomas had made with his own hands still hung there, illuminated by the intense flames. Two men had managed to reach it, and were hurriedly trying to pull it down. It would be taken to another church for safekeeping, no doubt stored in some forsaken back room and never thought of again.

She was walking away before she had realized she was moving. There was no reason for her to stay. There was only one small glimmer of hope. Gabriel had never mentioned her, so it was obvious that he had no knowledge of Annemarie. Hunter would never try to seek her out. But even as she headed off into the darkness, she prayed that the fool would continue to protect Carlisle.

Hunter had sentenced him to the half-life of vampires. But at least he was safe from his father's mistake. That would be her only comfort in the centuries to come.

* * *

_Los Angeles, California. Present day._

As Constantine slowly began to regain consciousness, he knew instantly that something had happened. He turned his head to see the flames; and he sensed the fading presence of something big that had just passed over him. Someone leaned over him, shouting his name. He forced himself to focus on the doctor's face. The one who had followed him from the hospital. There was the ghost of something in his eyes that Constantine knew all too well.

"What did you see?" he demanded harshly, wincing as the pain in his head intensified. "Something passed over us. What did you see?"

The doc didn't respond. Despite the pain in his skull, Constantine tried to sit up, scowling in irritation. The doctor immediately forced him back onto the asphalt, shaking his head. He had more strength than Constantine had realized.

"Stay down, Mr. Constantine. You are injured."

"What the hell did you see?" Constantine demanded. He dimly realized that the doctor had the old book in the hand he wasn't using to hold him down. But that was the last thing on his mind at the moment.

"I saw…" the doctor finally said. "I saw a horse and rider. It was there, and then it vanished."

He felt a groan escape as he rolled his eyes. A horse and rider. There one moment and vanishing the next. A Ghostrider…acting in broad daylight.

"That's just fucking perfect," he grumbled.

That's what he got for bothering to try and think well of anyone even remotely connected to Lucifer. Lucy was getting her ass deported right to Hell first chance he got. He considered being nice, and she threw an SUV at him.

Suddenly, they weren't alone. The wind had shifted direction, starting to blow the black acrid smoke from the burning SUV in their direction. People were starting to press in through the rising darkness, the first being a wrinkled old man in a crisp grey suit. Constantine turned his blurry gaze to the man, trying with all his might to resist pressing a hand to his head to try and stop the throbbing. It would be just his luck if he had a cracked skull.

"Are you two alright?" the new man said.

Constantine forced his eyes open, blinking in sudden astonishment. He had never exactly heard that voice before, but he still knew who it belonged to. But he had never seen this particular half-breed change her appearance for any reason. She was always tucked away in her library.

"What the hell are you doing out here?" he asked, his voice slightly groggy.

Hunter gave him a concerned look, seemingly about ready to reply. But then she turned, her wrinked old man's eyes looking at the doctor for the first time. Her face instantly became a mask of astonished surprise.

"Carlisle?" she gasped.

The doctor seemed as equally stunned as Hunter.

"Father Henry?!"

Something else in the crashed SUV exploded at that moment, choking the air with black smoke and heat. Constantine coughed and groaned. The rest of the crowd, the ambulances, and the fire engines were blocked from sight now. All that he could see was fire, Hunter, and the doctor.

"Carlisle, we need to move him," he heard Hunter say. "Help me."

The doctor still seemed speechless with shock, but he did not hesitate to help. Constantine felt his arm slide underneath his shoulders and lift him with astonishing ease to his feet. The world instantly spun around him, and he staggered. But the doctor's grip was unbreakable, holding his weight effortlessly.

"Now run, Carlisle," Hunter shouted.

"What?" the doctor shouted back. "We need to get him to the paramedics!"

"Carlisle, you have to trust me. We won't take him far. Now run, as fast as you can!"

There was a split second of silence. Then, Constantine was flying. The world was passing by him in a gray and black blur. His feet weren't even touching the ground. The hands of two different people had a concrete hold on him. One was withered and thin, the other was as cold and hard as stone.

True to Hunter's word, the sensation lasted barely thirty seconds. Then, Constantine felt himself being carefully lowered to the ground. He grunted again, this time as a twinge of pain raced up his left arm. Shit, did he have a broken wrist too?

"What is going on?" he demanded. At least his eyesight had focused enough for him to see Hunter and the doctor plainly. They had taken him to an empty alley between two brick buildings. The commotion of the crash was audible, but it was distant. "Hunter, how do you know this guy?"

"Hunter?" the doctor asked. He was crouched next to him, examining him more closely. Constantine gave him a glare, but his attention was on the half-breed. "Or…Father Henry?" The doctor seemed to be getting more confused by the second.

"Carlisle…I will explain shortly," Hunter vowed. "But please, first…is John badly hurt?"

The doctor focused on him again. Constantine rolled his eyes.

"Thanks for the concern," he growled. "Now what the hell is going on here?"

"Patience, John, please," Hunter replied. Her muddied voice was worried. "Please."

It was her tone that finally stilled him. Constantine had never heard such a plea come from the mouth of a half-breed before. Now thoroughly confused, he forced himself to hold his tongue and let the doctor look him over.

"Where are you feeling pain?" he asked. He had finally set the book aside so he could use both hands to examine him.

"My head…and my left arm," Constantine replied grudgingly.

Constantine narrowed his eyes as the doctor's bizarrely cold fingers gently touched his skull. Some sort of bandage had been tied across his forehead, but he didn't remember it being put there. The doctor must have done it while he had been out. His arm throbbed again, but not as badly as before.

And then, the clear sharp sound of a cell phone rang out. The doctor paused. Hunter actually jumped. Constantine wanted to punch something. Now he was confused _and_ pissed. The doctor shook his head once, and pulled a small silver phone out of his pocket. He was close enough that Constantine could hear the voice on the other end.

"Carlisle, where are you? Alice just called and said you were in the accident outside!"

"Edward, where are you?" the doctor asked.

"In Ravenscar's front lobby. Carlisle, I…"

"Stay there, Edward. I'm fine. I'll be there in a minute."

"Carlisle, Alice can't see you anymore! You've vanished from her sight."

The doctor looked stunned. And Constantine had finally lost his patience.

"Screw this," he growled, using the doctor's momentary distraction to push his hand aside and force himself to his feet. The world spun a little, but he managed to maintain his balance. "Hunter, you have two seconds to explain this before I…"

He froze. Someone had just appeared at the mouth of the alley. He could not make out her features, but her identity was a dead giveaway nevertheless. Because he could still see the fires of Hell glowing in her eyes.

Constantine would have let out a few choice curse words of his own at Lucy's abrupt arrival. But he didn't get the chance to say anything. Hunter had let out a cry of terror.

"No!!" she screamed. "Lucy, go to the library. Don't worry, he wasn't hurt…"

Constantine realized what it was Hunter was trying to prevent a second after it happened. The doctor had turned around to look at the girl, at the same time Lucy turned her fiery gaze to glance at him. Her eyes flashed dangerously. Her face, a look of concern a few seconds before, was how a mask of fury. And the frozen expression on the doctor's face was one Constantine knew all too well.

The expression of someone who has _seen_ for the first time.

The air around Lucy shimmered. Constantine could feel the growing heat. The doctor took a step backward, the phone sliding from his fingers. He started forward. Constantine had no idea what he was going to do, but he instinctively knew he had to do _something_.

Until someone else appeared, out of nowhere. A hideous crack sounded as the figure struck Lucy in the back of the head with a flashlight. The heat vanished, and Lucy keeled over.

"Oh…oh lord," the new arrival moaned.

Hunter shook her head, as if unwilling to believe what was happening. Constantine turned to the doctor.

"Carlisle, is it?" he asked gruffly.

The doctor stared at him.

"What is going on here?" he demanded.

"Please." Constantine rolled his eyes. "Ghostrider recognized you. Must mean you're damned."

"No," Hunter hissed abruptly. "Constantine, this is serious. Carlisle is innocent. It is his father's fault. His father was the one who signed the contract."

Constantine exchanged a glance with Carlisle. It was clear he wanted to say something, but he couldn't find the voice for it.

"Alright," Constantine said, shaking his head. It still throbbed, but at least his vision was clear now. "Maybe it's the concussion, but I'll bite. What about his father's stupidity put him in danger? This had better be good, or I am sending two half-breeds to Hell tonight."

Constantine didn't recognize the older woman that had clocked Lucy, but he could easily sense another half-bred angel had shown up. Both she and Hunter looked at him nervously.

"John, Carlisle," Hunter began. "I am sorry. This is my fault. And it's such a long story…it is hard to decide where to begin."

"Begin with the reason, Hunter," the other half-breed said softly.

Hunter paused for a long moment. Above, a low rumble of thunder echoed, and the first drops of yet another bout of rain began to fall.

"Carlisle, there was more to your father than you could ever know," she said. "It begins long before he was born. It begins with…the rebirth."

"The what?" Constantine was at the very end of his patience now.

Hunter rolled her eyes.

"John…surely you know the legend of the One with Crystal Eyes."


End file.
